Love Hate Sex Pain
by cake or justice
Summary: Love, hate, sex, pain... it's complicating me sometimes.   sadistic ZADR
1. Chapter 1

**Typical disclaimer: I own nothing.**  
**Rated a hard M. Turn back if you're too young and/or not into ZaDr.**

**Title based on the song by Godsmack.**

_Love, hate, sex, pain..._

_It's complicating me sometimes..._

I descend to the base as soon as I walk through the door, leaving the world, the day, and my fury with my book bag on the kitchen floor. Well, maybe not all my fury, my claws seem perpetually clenched into fists, I'm made for war and destruction after all.

Now that I'm enclosed in the only sanctuary I know, surrounded by cold steel coils and the low hum of a hundred machines, I feel the set of my shoulders relax a little bit as I sink into my chair. I can finally discard this stupid disguise, and I agree with him for once, it is utterly laughable that I survive day in and day out undetected. The computer comes to life as soon as I'm recognized, throwing useless security data and mission statistics across the monitor as if something has changed since yesterday aside from depleting supplies and one more "x" on the calendar. Somehow I thought conquering the world would be more fun, most of the time its just a test of my patience and exercises in varying degrees of rage. I silently console myself, claws steepled against my lips, this will all be over soon and when I stand on the highest point of this dirt ball, I will laugh at those pathetic creatures in their well deserved chains and rest my foot on one back in particular, feeling his spine buckle...

My antennae shiver, detecting movement somewhere to my left just before I catch the sounds of something softly stirring, rousing its self as if summoned by my thoughts. I turn my chair just in time to see him emerge from the darkness, his sleek muscled body bathed in indigo light as he slowly crawls across the floor, head down, the chain around his neck producing a faint ring with every movement. He wears nothing but a pair of black vinyl pants and the collar with a chain. I won't even give him his glasses. I like to watch his bones move beneath all that soft white skin. I like to see his naked face. He will not raise his eyes, he wouldn't dare, so he doesn't see the twitch of my lip, the flash of exposed teeth as he raises himself to his knees before my feet and crosses his arms in the small of his back.

"Forward," I command.

He complies immediately, shuffling with meager grace between my knees, burying his face in my crotch, teasing my cock from its sheath, mouthing the shape it makes through my pants. I lean my head back and sigh, my claws finally unfolding, my impotent anger redirected into something more productive as my dick eagerly responds to the stimulation of his lapping, oscillating of its own accord behind the confining fabric. His hands raise in a gesture that looks like surrender even as he continues these ministrations, his sole way of communication since speaking would earn him nothing but pain.

"You may."

He takes my boots off first then neatly folds my pants on top of them before resuming his position, his tongue is like fire against my bare flesh , and when he consumes me all at once I can't help the gasp that slips past or win against the urge to take fist fulls of his black hair in my grasp and slam my hips into his face. He takes this punishment with his hands folded behind him, we've done this so many times before, he knows to be quiet, to be the best little slave he can possibly be if he wants to see tomorrow, he knows his life is meaningless except for this, the feel of my cock slithering down his throat, wrapping around his satin tongue like lovers embraced. He knows I will kill him if he doesn't give me everything, if he doesn't make his master happy.

I pull him back by the grip in his hair and present my fingers, he takes all three of them in his mouth with the same vigor and I watch them disappear and reappear, the spit glistening against the tight latex of my glove. If there is a better purpose for humans I have yet to find it...especially this one. What comes next is the only time he's allowed to move without instruction because I like to see him do it on his own, a testament to his avid submission, the way he stands and unfastens his pants, discarding them without a care to stand naked and vulnerable before me, his member heavy and pink with arousal. Then he turns and drops to his knees, leaning forward to press his cheek against the floor, his arms resuming their post in the center of his back, his ass presented for the next act in our play. The sight of him poised like this never fails to excite me beyond measure, sometimes I merely pleasure myself while he remains this way, trying not to shiver on the concrete floor.

Tonight is not one of those nights, not after the way I was insulted today, not after the way his voice rang out across the halls to ridicule and accuse me. He will suffer even if he has no idea why and I do not give him reason as I push one, two and finally all three of my wet claws inside of him, stretching the unyielding entrance of his body to its full capacity even as he cries and then screams. I used to punish for these sounds but after so long they have grown on me and my lust shudders with impatience as I press my entire hand to the wrist past the quivering pink opening and curl the trapped digits into the fist they know so well. Despite his obvious pain he begins to work himself back and forth on the obstruction, his entire body quaking with the effort it takes, though I notice his cock is still rock hard. This goes on until his moans become hitched and disjointed, borderlining on sobs.

When I pull him onto my thighs and thrust my cock inside his ass I can practically feel his gratitude coming off in waves, though I make him sit with his back facing me, if I look at him right now, I still might kill him. He rides me with the power of his legs, if I even see his hands move from his back I'll beat him until he passes out, to steady his strides I hold him by a bruising grip to his pelvis. I watch the black bolt of his hair bounce up and down in time with the sound of his dick slapping against the front of his stomach, his pace eventually rising to a maddening tempo that forces me to groan and brace myself against the back of the chair, hips rising to meet him on every descent. My orgasm rips through me like a vicious living thing, taking my rage, my day and the world, shooting all of it into the creature still writing on my lap, the breathing embodiment of my torment and obsession.

When it's over he takes to his knees once more before me, head down, arms tucked. The only difference now is that his chest moves with his panting, there is a fine sheen of sweat all over his slender body and his cock leans towards me, the head swollen and dripping with precome.

I like him this way so I dress myself and resume my position in the chair, relaxed and renewed, ready to plan an attack on the five closest cities. I should leave him this way, aching and unfulfilled, held in check by nothing more than his desire to open his eyes tomorrow.

"Finish it." I am not merciful, especially to the boy who thwarts me at every turn and makes a mockery of my reason for being, but on occasion kindness isn't beyond my scope.

A whine comes from his throat and he takes his cock in his hand and strokes it harshly, moving his fingers over the pulsing tip with expert skill, his pelvis gyrating with each pass over the turgid length. He throws his head back and moans when he comes, pearly white fluid jetting from his clenched fist to splash against his stomach and even the center of his chest with the force of his climax. He arches away from me when this happens because he knows if any of it gets on me, he'll be licking it off after I put my boot in his ribs a few times. He wipes the excess from himself and smears it on his pants where it will not absorb but rather sit there like a reminder until he changes into the next identical pair tomorrow.

"I hate you."

These words, spoken so suddenly with such assurance, make him forget himself and he stares straight into my eyes with such shock that I don't remember to lean forward and smack him. Then his head drops and I can see, even in the purple shadows, the look of heart broken anguish that molds his face into a mask pain and brings swells of tears to his eyes.

"I love you, Zim..."

"You are insolent tonight, Dib 76, have you grown so tired of your pathetic existence?"

He cringes away from me, knowing Dib 77 could be created at any moment from the hair and skin samples I took of the real Dib so long ago. Yes, there have been 76 Dib clones. The first prototypes were exact replicas but I found them too strong willed and unruly, it has taken years to give the boy the correct attributes and characteristics to become my perfect pet, not mindless but unwavering in his dedication to serve me, though some days I still come home and kill them because the original has pushed me past control.

"Get out of my sight."

I watch him crawl away and dream of the day when the real Dib will weave his way to me on hands and knees, that look of perfect submission gleaming in his eyes.

Soon.


	2. Chapter 2

**This is the second and last part, also entitled _88 Position_s. You'll see why.**

I hate high skool more than any of the other stupid institutions worm babies are forced to endure on their way to becoming full blown stink beasts. I've spent too many years here watching the pitiful humans attempt to shed their tiny coils and become something even more repulsive, the evolution of their so-called individuality makes my internal organs shutter with horror.

Even now the homeroom teacher is babbling something about snowflakes and being unique and standing out in the crowd. I don't even know what you-nikee means, the idea of crowds makes me think of bombs and snowflakes melt...just like human skin if you put it under a real hot laser for too long. Despite my award winning performance (which only the Dib creature didn't buy, going to great and unsuccessful lengths to prove I murdered the child) I will not miss Todd.

Speaking of the huge headed one, I haven't felt the weight of his accusing eyes for at least thirty minutes so I muster an expression of extreme boredom and look behind my shoulder at his regular seat.

It's empty. My senses immediately go on alert, stretching out like invisible bands to skim the parameters of the building for his presence, I catch his scent after a few moments of concentrating. He's about twenty-five yards away, most likely in the parking lot. Normally I can't distinguish one human from the other but he is special, all those nights spent with his doppelgangers have given me a heightened awareness of his chemical make up.

As I walk out of the classroom the teacher says something but I fail to catch the exact words, focusing all my attention on the violently sharp smell of my bitter enemy, too intrigued by his obvious deviation from protocol to care if I look strange just leaving in the middle of a lecture.

Outside its more difficult to keep track of him, my antennae hum from the roar of traffic in the street, the sunlight infiltrates my disguise making it difficult for me to distinguish color, and the scent of oil from the hundred or more cars in the lot overwhelm my sense of smell and force me to put my hand across my nose. The last thing I want to do is go traipsing through the skool grounds looking for him but I make quick a bee line of the rows, my irritation rising as I picture him watching me from a hidden location, chuckling when he sees me searching for him like some stricken dog following its masters' scent.

My claws curl into fists as I walk back inside, failure burning me to the core. I accept defeat and make my way back to the classroom, distractedly rehearsing my speech about explosive diarrhea from the cafeteria food.

I'm three doors from homeroom when my sensors explode with warning, he's so close I can taste him, I stop short because he's nowhere in sight and just as it occurs to me to turn around everything goes black.

I have no need to trace him now, he's all around me, I'm choking on his skin cells, drowning in the particular scent of his clothes and hair, struggling to free myself from his trench coat, which he has used as a makeshift net to capture me.

"Did you really think I wouldn't find out...?"

His voice is an odd concoction of anger and breathless excitement. I growl and twist inside the cloying barrier but his arms hold my limbs tight to my sides, his back oppressively bearing down on my PAK, fury at being taken so easily threatens to bake me alive in here. Before I can voice a promise of his impending death we're on the move and humiliation adds its self to the mix because he lifts me clear off the floor and carries me like a sack of dead smeet - he's grown so large over the years, it gets more and more difficult to duplicate him every time I kill one of the replicas. He says something about how strange it would look if the whole skool were to burst from the classrooms and catch us in this compromising position, how my unnatural shrieking would call attention to an already flimsy charade.

I hate it when he's right.

I don't suffer like this for long, I sense a drastic change in atmosphere right before he sends me soaring through the air. I slam so hard into a table that my PAK buzzes, shooting tendrils of pain throughout my nervous system to let me how how dangerously close I've come to passing out with the force of impact. I drag his coat off my head and scrabble to gain my footing, swinging my head around just in time to connect with his fist. The punch lands me on my ass in short order and I watch in horror as the fake hair and eye pieces disappear into the darkness that surrounds us.

"What the hell is your problem?" I hiss, getting up slowly this time, using the edge of the same table that tried to kill me moments ago as a support system, realizing that we're in the second floor supply closet.

Dib makes the small distance between us disappear as he grabs my hips and effortlessly throws me on top of the hard surface, one hand reaching for my neck to smash my back against the unforgiving brick behind me. I bare my teeth as he leans in closer, the strange smile twisting his lips takes my apprehension to new heights as I struggle within his grasp.

"I just never realized what a little pussy you are."

The snarl that comes out of me is real and I reach for him without thinking until his fingers tighten my airway to the size of a straw leaving me no choice but to turn all my strenth into breaking his hold.

"What the hell are you talking about now, Dib-shit?"

He rolls his eyes, that infuriating smile taunting me as if I were some naive worm baby that didn't understand up from down. "I finally broke into your base this morning expecting to find the ultimate weapon of destruction or maybe even a small nuclear bomb but no..."

I'm deciding on the best way to kill a general information retrieval unit when Dib drops the mischievous pretense, his eyes darken to a color I've never seen before and make me forget all about GIR. I'm not scared but the expression on his face is foreign to me. I can detect his anger and taste the smallest hint of fear but there's something else there too, something sinister and wholly unlike the Dib-creature I've become accustomed to over the years.

He snatches my antennae and yanks my head back so far it almost smacks the top of my PAK, I open my mouth to scream but the sound is cut short, utterly lost in the lips that slant painfully across mine, his tongue diving inside of me like a bullet. I'm so shocked all I can do is sit there like a useless whelp as the wet muscle explores and rubs harshly against my own tongue, digging into the segregated rings, fighting with its pointed tip.

He smirks as he suddenly pulls away, leaving me gasping for air. "This is what you wanted, right Zim?"

"NO!" And I mean it with every fiber of my being, I have never kissed one of the clones, they're filled with germs and who knows what else. I drag my hand across my mouth and spit whatever he left in there on his face. "What do you think is going to happen here, Dib-shit? Aside from me ripping open your stomach cavity and eating your intestines for lunch!"

"Oh, someone gave me a few good suggestions about what's going to happen here. I've been talking to him all morning about it, actually..."

He slowly looks over his shoulder to the figure hovering just inside the doorway and I think my PAK is going to explode as I realize I've been discovered in such a compromising position. Dib 88 steps forward, meekly shutting the door behind him, his eyes never leaving the floor as he walks next to his original. Dib has dressed him in one of his stupid, catch-phrase tee-shirts and a pair of regular jeans, he looks out of place and frightened.

The sight of them standing side by side gives me a sense of unshakable vertigo, a bolt of nausea shooting through my center until I force myself to forget the slave entirely and focus on the bane of my existence, who managed to find his infuriating smile again.

I spring forward without thinking, my rage overwhelming the pain I feel in my stretched feelers, claws already tasting his blood - sinking into the softness of his abdomen, shredding the layers of fat and muscle to pink mist...

He knows me too well, stepping back and allowing me the leverage he needs to slam me on the concrete floor, dropping down on one knee as I fall to keep his hold on those sensitive stalks. This is the worst thing I could have done, I've effectively trapped my last resort (my PAK) under my own weight as he deftly twists his wrist and slides his body along side mine, looking down at me with deadpan amusement.

"You've been having fun without me all these years..."

I bite the finger that glides across my lower lip and feel his blood burn my skin as he slaps my face hard enough to make my eyes roll in their sockets. I hiss and open my mouth to promise his death before the last bell but he isn't paying attention to me anymore.

"Do you remember what we talked about, 88?"

"Please..." my slave ties his fingers into unnatural knots as he lowers himself to his knees, "...I don't want to hurt him."

Dib looks back at me, his brows knitted together, disappointment clearly defining his features. "You're pathetic to think I would ever act that way under any circumstances. Eighty-eight? I mean - Christ...eighty-eight...and you still couldn't get it right. This is an all time low for you, Zim." Dib shakes his head in disgust, releasing my antennae long enough to rip my tunic in two.

Warm, strong hands slide around my hips, dragging my slacks down my legs with practiced care, the cool, damp air hits my skin and I shudder with humiliation as fingers grip my ankles and force my legs apart. Panic unlike anything I've ever felt before grips me and I lunge upwards, ready to run out of here as naked as the day I was hatched if only to escape this nightmare unscathed. Dib anticipates this, rolling his much larger frame on top of me, seizing my wrists, pinning me to the floor with his weight.

"88..."

With his cheeks burning bright red and his eyes centered on some far off point, my slave straddles my chest and replaces Dib's hold. I know better than to order him to turn on Dib and fight. I didn't make him that way, there isn't a violent, dominating bone in his body and such a decree will only embarrass me further but I let him know with the weight of my gaze that only one of us will survive this day.

I know what's going to happen now and I refuse to scream or beg for mercy as Dib maneuvers himself between my thighs, the blunt tip of his erection prodding the clenched entrance of my body, his hands grasping my hips hard enough to turn the skin purple. I thrash and pull uselessly against the bonds around my wrists, silently wondering why he has stopped until I look up and see 88's trembling fingers releasing himself from his jeans.

"I. Will. Bite. It. Off."

"And I'll blow those charges I put in your base if you so much as graze your teeth..."

I know this scent, I've smelled it a hundred times before on my hands, between my legs but now its invading me, stretching my lips wide as 88 carefully slides his cock down my throat, his body shivering violently to be engulfed for the first time, twitching when my tongue ravels around his length to halt any more progress, futility attempting to push his entire body in the opposite direction. I forget all about the obstruction as Dib's pelvis snaps forward and buries his dick to the hilt, an involuntary spasm jolting my spine off the floor as pain threatens to saw me in half. I gasp which only causes 88 to sink deeper inside my mouth, choking me, filling me to the brim with Dib's essence.

"Easy, easy..."

I've never been so grateful for human air as Dib eases his twin back, wrapping his arms around his chest even as he thrusts forward, his length hugged by the tight walls of my protesting body, every contour defined, gripped in the channel that undulates on its own. A low moan escapes me when 88 gains control of himself and begins matching the rhythm of Dib's hammering pelvis, my eyes squeezing shut on their own accord as I attempt to ignore every sensation turning my sanity inside out. I want to self destruct, I don't care about the mission anymore, I don't care about the Tallest, I simply want to cease to exist as I swallow the fount of sticky fluid coursing down my throat, dripping from the quivering knot of muscle between my legs.

I gnash my teeth together hard enough to draw blood when 88 liberates my mouth, his chest heaving with the force of his orgasm, a line of drool hanging from his chin as Dib extracts him. At least its over, now I can -

"Again," Dib whispers.

I viciously murder the part of me that wants to turn away as Dib stands, plunging me into his shadow, I meet his stare with an unchecked snarl, pressing myself into the floor, ignoring the puddle I press against.

I'm grateful when he lowers himself onto my face, filling my vision with the smooth landscape of his back, I feel my eye lids stretch into my skull with shock as he situates himself to give me a birds eye view of his untouched cleft.

He looks over his shoulder at me, one brow arched, "Ever had me like this, Space Boy?"

He ensures my captivity by spreading his leather encased calves over my forearms, using his knees for leverage. I have a vague idea of what I'm supposed to do but everything becomes horrifically clear when he blatantly rubs those taunt cheeks into my lips as 88 tentatively fastens my legs into the small of his back and rubs the pulsing circle of muscle with his cock.

I could bite him, rip a chunk right off that pretty flesh and swallow it before he has a chance to yelp but with all eight inches of my slave impaling my insides I decide to give Dib exactly what he wants, my tongue swishing and dancing against the puckered coil until he relaxes and spreads his legs even wider to accommodate the tapered tip, forcing me to use every muscle in my jaw as I press further, feeling the muscles shiver as each ridged groove of me slips within, tasting those flexing walls. I force my tongue into the depths of his body, stretching against every sinew until I find the cache of nerves that makes him buckle uncontrollably, a startled moan breaching his lips.

I refuse to feel the satisfaction I get from this act even as he grinds his ass into the ribboning length that spears his prostate without relent, he steadies himself on my hips with one hand and drives himself to climax with the other. I feel another splash of fluids coat my stomach with wet heat and crane my head just in time to see Dib lean forward, pulling his twin to his panting mouth, kissing 88 with passion the clone has never experienced, which heralds a second burst that douses me with spurting jets from 88.

I'm exhausted, my limbs tremble from the anger whipping through my veins but I still try to escape, heaving my body in any free direction. There are two sets of hands, two sets of legs, two sets of Dib to stop me, to keep me chained to the dirty floor like a beast as they reposition themselves. This time Dib puts me on my knees with 88 at my hind quarters while I'm forced to stare at the hardening length jutting proudly between his legs, ready to experience another aspect of me. Somehow his come is more flavorful than 88's and I gag instinctively as he plows himself ruthlessly inside over and over again, using my antennae like handle bars. They choreograph their movements perfectly, 88 pushing just as Dib pulls me forward, their groans mimicking one another in tandem.

I will never hear the word "again" without shuddering, Dib says it so many times I lose count. Much to my shame I stop struggling after a while, unable to keep track of whose hand grabs where as they turn me and twist me to their delight, 88 forgetting himself entirely in the ruthless pursuit of pleasure. I have tasted every orifice of the human body within the span of an hour. I start receiving information in disjointed patches, a black spike bouncing here, the light glinting off the knob of a hip bone there, white fingertips biting into my flesh, the flash of a tawny eye; everything becomes a still shot of a memory I never want to create. Just when I think they can't possibly go on Dib's command slices through the sound of flesh slapping flesh, the slippery squelch of organs meeting openings, and I cry out for the mercy I promised I would not want.

"You look a little worse for wear, Space Boy..."

88 has drawn my arms high over my head as Dib lays on top of me, his breath bathing my face, the feel of his body so closely intertwined with mine is maddening, sickening and strangely arousing even after everything that's happened. Despite the fact 88 is made from his very essence I can distinctly feel the differences between them, Dib's hands are rougher, his body more purposeful, the taste of him is something a machine could never manufacture. This revelation comes to me at the worst possible moment, when he is staring into my eyes, drinking these secrets with a lazy curve of his lips.

"I'll survive," I rasp, "you putrid little shit..."

"Good. You've got a long time of looking forward to this then."

Every vile word I know spills from my tongue in both English and Irken, there isn't anything else he could do to violate me further, I tell Dib I'll see him in the pits of hell, that I'll fuck his skull while he's still living, that his blood isn't fit to polish my boots, that one day he'll look up at me and -

I am wrong.

I am so wrong that I scream and writhe and beg for mercy as he slides his cock into my sheath, the wet lips dripping as if hungry for the intrusive length that now fills me to the brim and drags across the curled shaft I have willed to stay coiled inside me this whole time.

"Dib, please don't...don't! Don't do that!"

He chuckles and nuzzles my cheek, doubling the stride of his thrust, stomach muscles clenching against mine.

"No! Stop...pleaseplease stop! It hurts..!"

It doesn't hurt. That's the torment of it. None of this has actual hurt me in a way that would permanently damage my body but this sensation is unlike anything else, gripping me with unparalleled pleasure, forcing my member to unfurl and rub against his, almost guiding him deeper inside me. I bury my face into his shoulder and latch onto him, sinking my teeth into his collarbone. For all my effort he simply moans and pounds the sopping tunnel, his cock trapped in the spiral mine has made around him and the fist like grip of my most sensitive place. I'm soothed by the fount of blood gushing into my mouth, spilling from the corners of my lips, trickling down my abused throat.

I fight it with all of my will but the orgasm he gives me rips my body apart as thick violet tears spring from my eyes, the sound wrought from my lips is heard throughout the skool, though neither of us worry because no one has ever heard a noise like that in the history of humanity.

When its over. When its finally over. Dib leaves me there curled on the floor like a tired play toy, never bothering to spare one glance at 88 who sits back without comprehension until his twin finishes dressing and walks out of the storage unit like he's on his way to lunch as usual.

"I'm...master...I'm so-"

One of my PAK legs takes care of that nonsense; spearing clean through 88's skull so hard his body flies back into the desk behind us, as limp and useless as a rag doll. I barely notice his demise, I'm too focused on the door, mentally capturing Dib as he straightens his coat, waltzing down the hall without a care in the world.

Everything in my lab is gone. There's no trace of those beautiful DNA samples or even the equipment I used to render my perfected versions of the boy I hate so much. Oh, and he lied about rigging the base full of explosives, I should have known. I refuse to use the circumstances of the moment as an excuse, kicking a dent into one of the specimen tanks as I take inventory of my violated lair. I stare dumbly at the empty table as GIR dances around me in idiotic circles, overjoyed that I have returned as I do every day. He stops short of a fiftieth spin and sniffs.

"Master, you smell funny."

I fucking hate that information retrieval unit...

It's cold tonight. I don't know if it's due to the fact my body still hasn't recovered from the day's ordeal or if I'm just...

...nervous.

I get my answer as I scale the siding with ease, every physical relay responding with the deadly quick accuracy I have always known. My PAK legs rise up to secure a hold in the gutter as I dip my head to peer in the window. The curtains are pulled back and the window its self has been left wide open.

Dib is there on his bed, naked with his fingers laced behind his head, his ankles crossed, the perfect picture of easy confidence. He looks neither surprised nor unhappy to see me, those gleaming eyes moving over my dangling form with blatant hunger.

"Again, Space Boy?"


End file.
